


Surprise

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, The Quidditch Pitch: Three of Hearts, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-02
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Hermione Granger disappeared eight months ago. Now she





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.

**Surprise  
part I**

She didn't know why she was still running. As she sat in Golden Gate Park staring at the bridge, she came to the realization she was tired of running.

She needed to go home.

She hoped they still needed her.

~~~~~

"Ron! Where did you put my broom?"

She heard Ron Weasley laugh. "Can't find your stick, Potter?"

"Damn you, Weasley! I'll be late for practice!"

Standing outside the rear door of the house where her best friends resided, she felt heartsick to hear their voices. It had been eight long months since she'd left.

"And Merlin knows you need practice with your broom," Ron teased.

She raised her hand to knock, only to jump back, startled, when the door opened. Harry Potter stood framed in the doorway.

He took her breath away. He was pale, almost unnaturally so given his profession as Seeker for the professional Quidditch team the Montrose Magpies. It made his emerald eyes jump from his face, especially in contrast to his black hair and lashes. And he was thinner than she remembered. It made her worry about him.

His mouth hung open, then he gasped. "Hermione?" She nodded, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. He blinked several times, then turned and yelled, "Ron!"

"Need help polishing your broomstick?" Ron called back before entering the kitchen, using a rag to wipe his fingers free of ink.

When he saw her in the doorway, he froze much as Harry had. He was taller, broader, than she remembered. It surprised her just how much _space_ Ron occupied. As she studied him, she realized that her entire time in America she'd unconsciously been looking for that very shade of red hair – just as she'd sought Harry's shade of green eyes – and had never been able to find it. His sapphire eyes drank her in, widening as they saw her belly.

"Hermione?" he said, disbelief making his voice a rasping whisper.

She brushed her hair back out of habit – she'd cut it short four months ago when pregnancy had taken the life from it. After twenty-seven years of wearing it long, though, it was hard to lose the habit of tucking it back or twirling it about one finger.

"Hello, Harry," she said. "Hello, Ron."

Harry suddenly threw the door wide and rushed her, pulling her tightly to him.

"Hermione," he whispered into her hair. Then she realized he was crying.

Looking up at Ron, she was shocked to see he'd sunk to his knees and had buried his face in his hands.

_I've driven them both to tears_ , she thought wonderingly.

"Harry? Harry...let's go inside," she suggested.

"What?" He pulled back, then shook himself and all but dragged her inside, slamming the door behind them.

Ron rushed out to grab her bag. Harry forced her into a chair, then sank into one across the table from her. Ron snagged a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses before dropping into a chair between his two friends.

Hermione took the opportunity their stunned silence afforded her to study them. Ron was pale, but it didn't look unhealthy, it merely looked like part of his complexion. His fingers had ink stains very similar to the ones on her own. Harry, on the other hand, was dressed in black Quidditch robes. His hair was cut almost brutally short, emphasizing both his eyes and cheekbones. His infamous scar had faded in the ten years since Voldemort's final death, but it was still etched faintly on his forehead.

"You came back," Ron whispered, his voice suspiciously choked.

She shifted her eyes back to him in time to see him brush tears away.

"Way to state the obvious, Ron," Harry teased, his own voice laced with tears.

She smiled. "Yes." She shifted uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair. Ron poured the whiskey, handing one glass to Harry, then downing nearly half his own. "I missed you."

Harry sputtered. "You _missed_ us?" He waved a hand at her belly. "There's someone you encountered while you _missed_ us."

She didn't know if she was quite ready for this turn of the conversation. She knew it would come up, of course – how could it not when she was eight months pregnant – but it made her nervous.

"Not exactly," she replied, twisting her hands.

"Not exactly," Ron repeated slowly. He narrowed his eyes speculatively. "How far along are you?"

"Eight months," she said, willing them to understand.

"Eight?" Harry asked. She nodded. "That's the – "

Ron interrupted coldly " – same amount of time she's been gone."

Harry looked between Ron and Hermione. Ron was glaring at her but it took Harry another moment to understand. Hermione knew that moment because he stood abruptly, knocking his chair onto the floor and backing away.

"Oh no, Hermione," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest once he reached the wall. "You can't be gone without word for so long then come back because one of us knocked you up."

She opened her mouth to explain but Ron held up one hand, stopping her.

"Harry, that was quite rude. For all we know it's coincidental." Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he turned to her again. "Hermione?"

She hadn't wanted it to be this way. She'd thought about how to approach them the entire return trip. _That's not entirely true. You've been thinking about how to explain since the day you found out._

"I hadn't been with anyone other than you since Andrew," she finally admitted.

"Oh fuck," Harry muttered. Dragging a hand over his face, he spat, "I have to go to practice."

Ron stood, glaring at Harry this time. "Don't you dare leave. Harry Potter can skive off practice for one night."

"Do you know what this means, Ron? Even if it is Hermione, this is what I've avoided by the heavy use of contraceptive charms and my current choice of bed partner." He laughed harshly, drowning out Ron's protests, then began to pace. "There are many women who want nothing more than to trap Harry Potter with a child."

Before Ron could reply, Hermione spat, "You bastard!" Harry turned to her and met her furious gaze. "I was as surprised by that night as you...don't you _dare_ tell me I tried to trap either of you."

"I'm warming your bed so you don't get a girl pregnant?" Ron hissed, his voice low with outrage and hurt. He took several steps forward into Harry's personal space.

Harry shoved a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. "That's not what I meant, Ron."

After a moment, Ron seemed to accept that and nodded. "Harry, this is Hermione, our best friend. She wouldn't need to get pregnant to keep our friendship."

Harry took a final look at Hermione and Ron, then righted his chair and sank into it. He dragged a hand over his face and sighed.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione was still furious, though. She stood with her hands clenched into fists and glaring at Harry.

"Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out I was pregnant? I'm a twenty-seven-year-old widow and pregnant by my best friends – a year after being widowed." She sat again, her anger dissolving with her words. "That night was what I needed, but it scared the hell out of me."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. Harry pulled his chair to the table and, crossing his arms on the tabletop, he dropped his head onto his forearms. Ron visibly relaxed, obviously glad he wouldn't have to calm Harry down when the both of them were upset.

"It wasn't exactly what I expected either, Hermione," Ron allowed. "Harry's known he's bisexual for a long time." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "It was a shock to me to discover I am, too."

"We lost our virginity to each other, Ronald," she reminded him.

"I know that, but I thought my crush on you was an 'I like girls' phase."

Harry laughed at that. "You were the only person you were deluding, Weasley."

Hermione rubbed a hand over her belly. "There's something else...." Both boys turned surprised and suspicious eyes on her.

"What?" Harry asked finally.

"I'm...I'm having twins."

"Twins," Ron repeated flatly.

"Yes."

There was a long silence Hermione knew she needed to break with the rest of her news, but she didn't want to. She wanted to continue in her bubble of semi-tranquility.

Ron broke the silence first. "Identical or fraternal?"

"Fraternal," she answered softly, but did not elaborate.

"Same sex?" Harry asked.

"Boy and girl."

The boys exchanged a look again, then Ron inquired, "Same father?"

This had been the moment she was dreading. She had Obliviated the mediwitch she'd consulted in the States for the paternity charm.

"No," she whispered.

Harry dropped his head to his arms again. Ron sank back in his chair and dragged a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," she offered. Harry looked up over his forearms, disbelief in his eyes. Ron's expression was blank as he looked at her.

"Sorry," Harry repeated, lifting his head, then standing to pace once again. The billowing of his robes reminded her faintly of Professor Snape from school, but she didn't tell him that. He wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

She jumped backwards in her chair when Harry turned suddenly and slammed his hands onto the tabletop directly across from her. His voice was a low growl when he leaned forward and spat, "Hermione, you've just told us we're both to become fathers within the month and all you can say is 'sorry'?"

"Yes!" she returned heatedly.

"Why didn't you tell us when you found out?" Ron asked as Harry and Hermione glared at each other.

"Because I was scared out of my mind," she replied nervously. The way Harry was staring at her – like she was no better than some Potter groupie – was making her both uncomfortable and sad.

"Scared?" Harry repeated disbelievingly. "Scared?"

"Yes, scared." She stood as well, bracing her hands on the table and leaning forward to get into Harry's face. "Of exactly this reaction. What the hell was I supposed to do when, on the first anniversary of my husband's death, I end up in bed with my best friends? That I had enjoyed loving them much more than I ever had with my husband? That I wanted more? That I felt like a wanton whore?"

Taking a deep breath, she backed off, trying to compose herself. Tears streamed down her face, but she ignored them. A glance at Ron showed her that he was stunned to silence.

Harry was still glaring at her. "A wanton whore, Hermione?" he mocked. "I'd hardly say that. And don't you think we weren't shocked?"

"Were you?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hell yes we were, Hermione," Ron answered. She turned to him slowly. "What makes you think we planned a _ménage a trois_?"

She scoffed. "I never thought you'd planned it." But did she believe her own words? More than once since that night she'd wondered if they hadn't at least discussed the possibility.

Harry and Ron had been together for three years before Hermione married – disappointing many a witch in the wizarding world – and that was five years ago. She had seen the looks they'd given her sometimes, a calculating sidelong glance or appraising head-to-toe scan. But neither had ever acted upon it.

Until she'd shown up on their doorstep half-drunk on the anniversary of her husband's death.

"Hermione," Ron said in a low tone. She met his eyes reluctantly. "I know that look."

She crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on the bulge of her pregnancy. "Do you now?"

"You're wondering if we've talked about it."

Given how well they knew each other, she shouldn't have been surprised he'd so accurately read her expression. After eight months apart, she'd forgotten about that almost eerie silent communication they seemed to share.

Sighing, she sank into her chair once again. "Yes, I'm curious."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look once again, annoying her, then Ron said, "We didn't plan a _ménage a trois_ , but we had talked about it."

"You had talked about it," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "For how long?"

Harry's smile was wicked. "Since seventh year."

She gasped and fell back in her chair. "What?" Ron glanced between the two friends, then grinned. "Ten years?"

"Well, just over nine before we finally got there," Harry corrected, idly examining his fingernails.

"You...we...nine years?" It was one of the few times in her life when Hermione Granger was speechless. Ron and Harry both nodded slowly. She stood once again, walking to the sink.

She leaned against the countertop, staring down into the sink, seeing it only in the periphery of her vision. _They'd thought about the three of us for nine years?_ Idly she noted the faucet leaked, the steady drips circling the drain before disappearing.

She whipped around to find Harry whispering in Ron's ear, one pale hand resting on Ron's shoulder.

_And if I didn't know they were lovers, I could mistake it for friendship,_ she realized. Leaning back once again, the counter comfortably digging into her lower back and one hand on her belly, she cast back into her memory for other events.

_If they'd talked about a_ ménage a trois _in seventh year, that means they'd considered being with each other at that point as well. So how many times have I been on the receiving end of touches that were passes intending to lead to something more? Touches that were really designed to gauge my interesting in one – or both – of them?_

Ron laughed softly, turning to brush a kiss over Harry's lips. Harry danced backwards, then pinned her with those impossibly green eyes.

"I need to know something," she blurted. Harry inclined his head, indicating she should continue. "Have either of you ever made a pass at me?"

Ron laughed. "After seventh year?"

She braced her hands on her hips and glared. "Yes, Ron, after we broke up."

He and Harry exchanged a look. "A few times," Ron admitted.

This was becoming more surreal for her. For eight months she'd been under the impression that they'd taken her in and slept with her out of some combination of pity and friendship. To now find out that her arrival that night wasn't unwelcome and had been anticipated in a way, was shocking.

She made her way back to the table, sinking once more into a chair. "Did you expect me that night?"

"We knew you'd probably at least call," Harry allowed. "We certainly didn't expect you'd drop by after you'd had a bit to drink."

"Or that you'd kiss both of us _that way_ ," Ron adds almost under his breath.

"Or that it would lead to anything else."

"We'd talked about it but never expected it."

It was a bit like listening to Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, the way they seemed to speak as one person with two voices. _They've been together entirely too long._

Harry stood abruptly and unfastened his Quidditch robes. When Ron and Hermione both looked at him quizzically, he shrugged and said, "Too bloody hot."

She didn't know if what he was left with was any better. White t-shirt, dark trousers, and leather arm and shin guards.

"I came back because I missed you two," she repeated her earlier words, this time with more meaning.

Ron reached across the table. "We missed you too, Hermione."

Harry paced for a moment, then flopped back into his chair. "So where do we go from here?"

That was the question she had wrestled with herself over on the entire trip back to England. What _did_ she want of them? For her children to know their fathers, certainly, but beyond that she hadn't considered the possibilities.

In all her thinking about her children and her boys, she had come to the conclusion that what she wanted was the three – _well, five_ – of them to become a family. How that happened, she'd never been able to quite figure out. Faced with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter now, the idea frankly terrified her.

"You aren't leaving again, are you, Hermione?" Ron asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

She shook her head. "No, it's too close to my due date. I rented a flat not far from here –"

Before she could continue, Harry interrupted in a tone that did not brook argument, "You aren't staying in your own flat."

"I'm not?"

"No, you'll stay here," Ron replied.

It was what she wanted, what she'd hoped for, but she wasn't going to let them know that. "I am?" Each of the boys nodded. "And where am I sleeping?"

"We have plenty of guest rooms," Harry said quietly.

"Guest rooms," she repeated. There was no way she could share a house with them and pretend it was platonic, not when their children were currently doing their best to claw their way out of her.

Harry and Ron exchanged another look, but said nothing.

"Very well," she said, nodding shortly. Before either of the boys could respond, she pulled her wand and Disapparated.


	2. Part Two

**Surprise  
part II**

"Molly, I'm exhausted," Hermione whispered.

Molly Weasley patted Hermione's head as it lay on her forearms. "Of course you are, dear. Twins are tiring."

Hermione lifted her head only slightly, eyeing Molly warily. "How did you manage it?"

"Oh, Fred and George weren't my first children. I had three others by then and was functioning on permanent exhaustion." Molly then laughed and jiggled the fussing baby in her arms. "And I wasn't trying to do it all by myself. Will you move in here?"

With a sigh, Hermione sat up and stretched. The twins were three months old now and she felt like a zombie. Alexander, her son -- Harry's son -- was generally quiet, but very demanding of her time. Devin, her daughter -- Ron's daughter -- was only quiet when she slept, but was relatively easy-going. However the two of them rarely were asleep at the same time.

Hermione eyed Molly suspiciously. Molly had kept the boys in the dark about how to contact Hermione since she left their house nearly four months prior. Hermione had not planned to contact anyone after leaving the boys, had not wanted to be the burden Harry seemed to think she might be, but then she went into labor. Though she had a plan in place, fear kicked in at the last minute and she fire-called Molly. Molly was by her side during labor and delivery, delighting in witnessing the birth of her grandchildren -- for that's what she called them even though Alex wasn't biologically her grandson. Hermione also appreciated that she took it in stride about the twins having different fathers.

"Yes, I'll move in here," Hermione said softly.

Molly grinned widely, then grabbed Hermione's arm and, with her free hand, led her to Ron's old room. The garishly orange Chudley Cannons posters had long-since been removed, replaced in spots by Montrose Magpies posters featuring Harry. The resulting effect was that the walls looked disconcertingly naked.

"You mind if I do a bit of redecorating?" Hermione asked Molly wryly.

Molly's lips twitched. "No, not at all." She glanced around the room. "Are you going to need assistance to move?"

Hermione shook her head. "I haven't really ever unpacked, so there are only a few boxes that need to be done." She sighed once again, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Molly, are you okay with this deception?"

"A little late to be asking now, isn't it?" Molly retorted, taking a seat next to Hermione on the bed, shifting Devin to her other shoulder.

"Probably," she replied, toying with the hem of her dress, "but I keep running the decision I made about the boys through my mind and all that comes back are more second thoughts."

Molly sighed and, with one arm, gathered Hermione close. Stroking Hermione's hair, she murmured, "You'll always have second thoughts. The problem will come when you can't live with them." Pulling back, she looked down at Hermione. "Can you live with them right now?"

"Yes," Hermione murmured. "It's just been a very long year."

Molly nodded. "So when are you moving in?"

With a laugh, Hermione answered, "How does by the end of the week sound?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm telling you, Harry, George said he saw baby stuff here last week."

Hermione woke slowly, the familiar voice rousing her consciousness. Automatically, she checked the twins, delighted to find them both sleeping. Glancing at the clock, she groaned upon discovering it was nearly noon. Though Molly and Arthur had finally convinced her to quit her job -- they insisted they didn't need her income to support themselves, her and their grandchildren -- she still preferred to be awake by eight. Alex, however, had different ideas and had kept her awake all night.

"You have several nieces and nephews, Ron. Are you sure George wasn't mistaken?"

_Ron and Harry. Ron and Harry are arguing in the hallway._

Hermione almost didn't recognize the sensation filtering through her as panic since she hadn't experienced it in so long. The twins were nearly six months old now and her contact with their fathers had been the last instance of pure panic she'd felt.

She was preparing to get out of bed when Ron's voice stopped her. "No, none of those nieces and nephews are in nappies. George specifically said he saw nappies."

_Damn George._ George had stopped in to the Burrow -- the Weasley family residence -- last week and discovered Hermione and the twins to be the only ones home. She talked with him for a long time after making him promise not to tell the boys where she was. _I should have been more specific._

She had just pulled on her dressing gown when the door opened.

Frozen, she stared at the doorway. Ron stood as if Petrified, staring right back at her -- until Harry pushed past him, muttering, "Budge over, you prat."

Hermione found their nearly identical pole-axed expressions amusing. Harry's voice woke Alex and he began to whine in a way Hermione knew would wake his sister if she didn't interfere.

Ignoring Harry and Ron, she hurried to Alex. Cooing softly, she lifted him to her shoulder. He quieted almost immediately. Hermione then turned her attention back to Harry and Ron.

Ron recovered first. "Hermione?" His voice cracked with disbelief and she was struck by the similarities between then and six months prior. He swallowed visibly. "How...how long have you been at the Burrow?"

Shifting Alex, she sighed. "Three months." There was no point in hiding now.

"Three months?" Harry repeated, slightly breathless.

Hermione looked between them. "Yes, three months." Before she could elaborate, Devin woke. Devin, unlike Alex, never woke quietly. Her cry split the air, making Hermione groan. She walked to Devin's bassinet and pulled her out, lifting the baby to her unoccupied shoulder.

"Hermione?" Harry began, his voice cracking now.

She turned to them, her arms full of their children. "Yes?"

"Are they...those our children?" When Hermione only raised her eyebrows in response, Harry smacked his forehead. "Of course they are."

He stepped closer, glancing askance at Ron, who was still shell-shocked.

Alex began fussing even more. She thrust Devin at Harry, then took Alex to the changing table. With quiet efficiency, she stripped Alex down, changed his nappy, then dressed him once again. Exchanging Alex for Devin from a stunned Harry, she did the same thing.

Once finished, she collected her son, pushed past the two of them and headed downstairs. She was in the kitchen before the boys awoke from their trance.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, thundering down the stairs as if fifteen years younger.

She was just latching Alex into a bouncy seat on the table when she turned to Ron. Harry followed not far behind. "Yes?"

Ron sank heavily into a chair while Harry stayed in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She met both pairs of eyes briefly, then turned to begin breakfast.

"Wait, you can't cook," Ron said.

She pinned him with a glare, then cracked eggs in a skillet. "It was learn or starve."

Harry moved from the door to the chair next to Ron. After cracking eggs and setting sausage on, Hermione took two teething biscuits from the cupboard and handed one each to Devin and Alex. They'd both started teething a month ago, but Alex was cutting a tooth -- hence the reason he'd kept Hermione awake the previous night.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ron asked quietly, staring at the twins.

Devin was going to have strong hints of the Weasley hair. Her soft tufts were already a strongly reddish-tinted brunette. Her facial features were more indistinct yet, but Molly repeatedly told her that Devin had Hermione's eyes.

Alex, on the other hand, could have been anyone's child except his eyes. Even at six months, they were green and unmistakably Harry's.

She turned to the boys. Hand on hip, she demanded, "What do you think I did while I was gone?"

Harry and Ron exchanged one of those looks that conveys a wealth of information in seconds. Harry couldn't look at her, preferring instead to duck his head and rub the back of his neck. Ron met her steady gaze.

"I don't think we thought much about that," he admitted.

Hermione turned back to the cooker, suddenly both angry and sad. "I meant that much to you?"

"That's not what he meant, Hermione!" Harry protested.

"Then explain it to me," she retorted in a low voice.

"You can be so infuriating, Hermione," Ron muttered. She concealed a grin. "We were shocked by what had happened, despite having thought about it. Then you vanished. Fifteen years of friendship and you vanished after one night in bed."

"I don't think we made it to the bed, did we?" Harry asked.

"Shut up, prat!" Ron barked. "You aren't helping."

"So I vanished," she began. "Did you try to find me?"

"Not for the first couple weeks," Ron admitted. "It wasn't odd for us not to see each other for a week or so and we didn't think about it until two weeks had gone by."

She had to bite her lip at that, tear pricking at her eyes. She said nothing, however, merely dished up three plates and set one in front of each Harry and Ron, then sat between the twins happily munching on their biscuits.

"After two weeks we got worried," Ron continued after swallowing a forkful of egg.

"Thought something might have happened to you," Harry added.

"So we looked at your flat..."

"...only to find out you'd moved."

"We checked with Ginny and Neville..."

"...even with Rosalie," Harry interjected, naming Hermione's detested sister-in-law.

"We went to your parents and in-laws," Ron continued, biting his lip and toying with the food on his plate.

"No one had seen you since the night you left." Harry waved a sausage at her for emphasis -- then was shocked when Devin grabbed it and stuffed it in her mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes and plucked it from the child, giving her a bit of egg instead.

Harry just gaped until Hermione barked, "What?"

"Just difficult to see you as a mother," he murmured.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So you didn't look for me until two weeks had passed. Even then, you didn't look very hard." It was hard not to be bitter despite the fact she had been avoiding them for months.

"We talked to everyone who knew you, Hermione," Ron replied shortly.

"Knew me? Did you think I was dead?" She knew she was being irrational about it, but lack of sleep and stress at seeing Harry and Ron had frayed her nerves.

"It crossed our minds," Harry said softly. Her head shot up. "You disappeared so thoroughly that we contemplated reporting you to the Muggle police as a missing person. Mrs Weasley prevented us from doing that, assuring us that you were still alive and well."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her, making her blush and turn away. "You were in contact with my mother, weren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

Silence fell until Alex broke it with a cry. Without a word, Hermione rose and fixed two bottles, giving one to each child.

"So...um...these are our children?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Hermione moved around the table until she was between the two.

As if their gazes held weight, she could feel them watching her, feel their eyes on her body. Heat rose within her, unbidden and unwanted, at the memory of the last time she was between these two.

She reached for Devin, unstrapping her and handing her to Ron. He took her gingerly, as if he were afraid he would break her.

"That is your daughter, Devin Rose," Hermione said quietly.

Before Ron could say anything, she reached forward and unstrapped Alex. Harry took him with a look of awe.

"This is your son, Alexander James," she told him.

Fighting back tears, she backed away from her makeshift family. Before either Ron or Harry could stop her, she was on the rear porch.

She knew this day would come, the day when Harry and Ron would discover her and their children, she just hadn't realized it would be so soon. She had expected she would have time to prepare herself, time to prepare the boys. Instead, thanks to George, it was an immersion in fire.

_It's how we seem to work best, though,_ she reminded herself. _Thrown from one thing to another while in school, then when Harry came out and the world was horrified._

She just wished she knew what the next step was. She had returned to England with the hope of beginning some sort of non-platonic relationship with her best friends. They had dashed that when they offered her their guest room. _Where do I go from here?_

"Hermione, what are you doing out here?" Molly asked, moving behind Hermione.

"I needed a bit of space," she rasped in reply.

Molly was silent for as long as it took her to take a seat on the porch swing. "Feeling threatened?"

Hermione spun about. "What?"

"Threatened."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. She'd kept it short but still had the habits of having long hair. Sighing heavily, she sat next to Molly and pushed at the floor with her foot, setting the swing to rocking.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Hermione admitted softly.

"Natural enough," Molly allowed.

"Is it? I've run away from them twice, Molly. Now they've found me...and the twins."

"You knew you wouldn't be able to hide here forever."

Hermione gave a shaky laugh. "I think I did, in the back of my mind. That if I could avoid them long enough I could avoid the talk I need to have with them."

Molly reached over and patted Hermione's knee. "I love you like a daughter and you might have been the smartest witch to attend Hogwarts in a long while, but sometimes you're very stupid."

Hermione gave a mirthless laugh. "Yes, I know."

Molly stood and looked down at Hermione. "Are you coming inside?"

Hermione looked up. "Soon. I need a few minutes alone first."

Molly nodded, then went back into the Burrow. Hermione stayed outside, rocking gently in the porch swing.


	3. Part Three

** Surprise **

** Part III **

The sun was lowering in the sky when the rear door opened again.

 

"Molly, I said I'd be in shortly," Hermione said, rocking gently as she stared at the sunset.

 

"I'm not Molly," Harry replied, letting the door shut behind him as he stepped onto the porch.

 

Hermione shot up as if her seat were a spring.

 

Harry sighed heavily. "Sit down, Hermione." When she didn't move, Harry repeated himself, a general's command lacing his voice.

 

She hadn't heard that tone from him since the war and decided not to press him. She sat on the porch swing once again.

 

Harry moved to the railing, then turned to sit lightly on the edge. He ran a hand through his hair -- well, over it really, since it was so short -- and sighed again. Hermione pushed off with one foot, setting the swing in slow motion.

 

"How could you do that to us, Hermione?" he asked finally, looking up at her through his dark lashes.

 

Nervously swallowing the punch of arousal at his look, she met his eyes. "Do what?"

 

He straightened, staring incredulously at her. She raised her eyebrows. He scoffed.

 

"You're a piece of work, Hermione," he said finally.

 

The hurt that followed his words shamed her. Early on, just after she'd found out she was pregnant, she'd tried to put herself in their place. Obviously, she'd failed miserably. She'd misjudged their reactions so completely that her choices were now as much the problem as her tendency to run away.

 

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

 

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" Though the words were delivered without heat, Hermione gasped as if slapped. Harry glared at her, anger flushing his face. "Don't you dare play the aggrieved widow now."

 

"I...I..." Her voice trailed off when she realized that's exactly what she'd been doing, however unconsciously.

 

A sick feeling rolled through her. In trying to come to terms with all that had happened, she'd shut out the two people who could have helped her despite the fact they'd been the ones to impregnate her in the first place. She'd hurt them as much as she'd hurt herself.

 

He sighed again and sagged against the railing. "Ron sent me out here because I'm less likely to lose my temper, so what's the first thing I do?" The self-deprecating question accompanied a rueful smile.

 

"It wasn't my intention to keep your children from you," she began.

 

He met her eyes, raised one eyebrow, and said, "Yet that's exactly what you've done."

 

"Yes."

 

Silence stretched heavily between them until she broke it by asking, "What do we do now?"

 

"Ron and I want to know our children, Hermione."

 

Though a nervous panic skittered along her nerves at that idea, she nodded. They deserved the chance to know their children. After all, isn't that why she'd returned to England?

 

"How magnanimous of you," he said, a sarcastic bite adding teeth to the words. The words cut at her heart.

 

"Fuck," he spat, pushing off the railing again. "I can't do this without getting angry." Two strides put him at the door. One hand on the handle, he briefly met her eyes. "We'll talk later." After her sharp nod, he entered the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

 

She sat in silence broken only by the gnomes in the garden. Devin liked to watch them, but Alex was the one who wanted to chase them. Burying her face in her hands, she cried.

 

Full dark had set in before Molly fetched her for dinner. Molly said nothing, merely patted Hermione's hand, taking it firmly in her own. Hermione smiled wistfully, following the Weasley matriarch into the house.

 

Hermione froze in the doorway upon seeing Ron and Harry at the kitchen table with their children. Molly tugged her forward with the iron grip she had on Hermione's wrist.

 

At the close of the door, the boys looked up. Tension that hadn't been present before now filled Harry's expression. Ron looked more pensive than before but no less annoyed or angry. Hermione swallowed nervously, still not ready to face the situation she'd thrown them all into.

 

"Sit, Hermione," Molly ordered. After a quick glance at Molly, Hermione sat. Pleased with herself, Molly then turned to the boys, arms out. "The children." Slightly stunned, Ron and Harry handed over Devin and Alex.

 

With that, Molly left the room, casting locking wards on the doorways and windows afterward.

 

Harry ground his teeth in frustration before glaring at Ron.

 

Ron glared back. "What?"

 

"She's your mother," Harry spat.

 

Ron thrust a thumb in Hermione's direction. "And _my mother_ is on Hermione's side."

 

"I didn't realize we were on different sides," Hermione said softly.

 

Ron pinned her with his eyes. "What are we supposed to think when you disappear after shagging the hell out of both of us?" Ron paused, but held up a hand when Hermione opened her mouth to respond. "When you show up eight months later, unharmed and hugely pregnant to tell Harry and I we're going to be fathers? What are we supposed to think?" The towel he'd been tangling in his hands ripped in two. "Then, after we offer you a place to live, the chance to let us into our children's lives, you fucking disappear again. What should we think?" He began to methodically shred the towel even as Harry walked to the rear door to stare out the window. "And this time you don't find us, we find you. With our children? What should we think?"

 

Hermione said nothing, her only noises were her sniffles as tears poured down her face.

 

"I know I probably won't be a good father," Harry began, making her gasp and spin in her seat to face him, "but that's no reason to prevent me from seeing my son." Harry turned to face her and Ron. His eyes were red-rimmed, betraying his emotion, but his face was hard.

 

She was astonished and horrified he believed that. That idea never entered into her thoughts, but she was angry at the Dursleys all over again for making Harry believe himself worthless.

 

"We love you, Hermione," Ron said softly, drawing her attention back to him. "However, we don't like you much right now."

 

A little voice in her head that sounded remarkably like Ron at age eleven said, " _She's a nightmare, honestly._ "

 

Swallowing hard in an attempt to regain control of her emotions, she whispered, "How can I fix this?"

 

Harry knelt by her chair and gathered her hands in his. "Stop running."

 

"Andrew's dead," Ron said bluntly.

 

She flinched at the reminder of her husband, but didn't pull away. She knew he was dead. His death was a small part of her running away. "I know," she said in a choked whisper.

 

"We want to be part of your life again, Hermione," Harry rasped. She missed them, too, probably nearly as much as they missed her if their actions were anything to go by.

 

She looked down only to be shocked by the near-tears expression on his face. Harry rarely cried, another legacy of the Dursleys. She tugged a hand loose to cup his cheek. He nuzzled her hand briefly before pulling back, releasing her and standing.

 

"If we go forward together, you have to stop running," Ron said, voice as hard as Harry's had been. "We have to be able to know you'll still be there when something happens, or even when we get back from work."

 

Harry cocked his head at Ron, a smile teasing his lips. "You work at home, Weasley."

 

Ron waived a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean, Potter."

 

Focusing once again on Hermione, Ron continued, "You have to be there for us and let us be there for you."

 

"We used to be the Golden Trio," Harry added softly. "Now we're two poufs and a fag hag."

 

Ron choked back a laugh. "What?"

 

Harry had the decency to blush. "It's just something I heard."

 

"A fag hag wouldn't have slept with you," Hermione muttered.

 

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You only did it once. Are we supposed to remember?"

 

"I think it was more than once, if you count us both," Harry interjected. "At least twice each, if I recall."

 

After a glare at Harry, Hermione reclaimed her hands, crossed her arms on the table and buried her head against them.

 

"Don't you want a repeat?" Ron purred.

 

She lifted her head enough to glare at both of them. They were both smiling beatifically. After rolling her eyes, she dropped her head again. She wasn't up for dealing with their choir boy act -- they were anything but choir boys.

 

"Hermione?" Harry asked slowly as if testing the waters.

 

With a sigh and a groan, she lifted her head again, this time resting her chin on her arms. "Yes?"

 

"What are you thinking?"

 

She raised an eyebrow. "Other than the fact the two of you aren't innocent and there's no reason to pretend otherwise?"

 

"There may not be a reason, but it's fun," Ron said, grinning.

 

Her eyes darted between them again. Their fingers were entwined on the tabletop, even in their annoyance and anger with her. They still had that silent communication that annoyed her to no end, the ability to just glance at each other and speak volumes.

 

"Do you know why I left the night I showed at your flat pregnant?" she asked suddenly.

 

There it was, that look between them, before Ron said, "No. We offered you a place to stay and you left."

 

She straightened, leaning back in her chair, to eye them darkly. "You offered me a guest room. Eight months pregnant with your children and you offered me your _guest room_."

 

Harry caught on faster. She watched the confusion play across his face before understanding washed that away.

 

"You mean if we'd asked you to sleep with us all of this –" he made a motion with his hand encircling them before gesturing in the direction Molly had taken the twins "– could have been avoided?" He sounded incredulous, whether at her or the situation, she didn't know.

 

"Yes," she answered simply.

 

"Fuck," Ron muttered.

 

A stunned silence fell. I was all Hermione could do not to squirm uncomfortably. She refused to feel guilty for wanting to sleep with them despite the injured looks on their faces. If she had said something rather than Disapparating, none of the angst they were suffering now would be necessary. But at eight months pregnant, after eight months without her boys, to be treated like a guest had been too much to bear.

 

Her throat felt tight when she opened her mouth to break the silence, tight with tension and burning with unshed tears.

 

"If...if I moved in," she began, sniffling once again, "what would the situation be?"

 

She dropped her eyes, unable to look at them. They held her future and she was afraid.

 

A moment later, from the corners of her vision, she saw two hands, one freckled, one pale, reach across the table toward her. They waited there until she looked up. Ron had a goofy smile on his face; Harry looked nervous, biting his lip nearly to the point of making it bleed.

 

Her mind, fixated for so long on her -- _their_ \-- children, snapped. Tears poured down her cheeks as suddenly as turning a tap on full. Even as she reached out, taking their proffered hands, her only coherent thought was, _They want me_.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Alex, get out of the tree!" Hermione yelled from the rear porch.

 

"Mum!" Alex protested, but climbed down.

 

She was glad he'd done it on his own because she was in no condition to physically remove him from the branches of the huge oak in the Weasley garden. She didn't dare attempt magic on him right now, either. At nine months pregnant, a witch's magic was the most unpredictable and she didn't want her son to end up in London by accident.

 

When the twins had turned five, Hermione decided it was time they had another sibling. Harry and Ron had needed little convincing -- they enjoyed the "practicing." Though Hermione had not elected the gender and paternity charms this time around, given the almost instantaneousness with which she became pregnant after her contraception charms were removed, it was an unspoken consensus that this pregnancy was a Weasley baby.

 

Watching Alex fall from the last two branches, she merely sighed. He was much more accident-prone than she or Harry; accident-prone to the point she was afraid to allow him on a broom, especially by himself, much to Harry's dismay. Alex hobbled to the porch and looked up at his mother with the same puppy dog pout his father had perfected.

 

Turning to Harry, who had just exited the house, she asked, "Could you heal his ankle? Again."

 

Chuckling, Harry did so, then levitated Alex up the steps. Collecting his son in his arms, he called for Devin as Hermione levered herself from the porch swing. Devin raced around the corner, dirt smudged over her face and hands, red braids trailing behind her like banners. Both Molly and Ron often said Devin reminded them of Ginny, a memory which became less bitter and more sweet as time passed.

 

This would be their last Sunday at The Burrow before the baby was born, or, at the very least, the last Sunday Hermione could stand to travel. She felt as big as she had with the twins, though the midwife had assured her she was carrying only one child.

 

Once in the door, Ron helped her to a comfortable chair before bringing her supper to her. She smiled in response, kissing Ron's cheek before settling back to watch her family.

 

Devin, once again, attempted to draw all eyes to her. She was a drama queen, but did it in such an endearing way that most couldn't be angry with her and walked away feeling bemused by her antics. Alex, on the other hand, was a complete daredevil, the worst of both his fathers but with as much charm as his sister. The easy affection between Ron and Harry no longer made her feel excluded, even now when their thighs were pressed together under the table and Ron was gently massaging the back of Harry's neck, but made her feel wonderfully included because they did the same for her. Well, when she wasn't nine months pregnant and cursing them, that is.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three days later, Hermione went into labor. After getting nothing accomplished with Ron and Harry there, she made Ron Floo his mother. She arrived in her no-nonsense fashion, sent Alex and Devin to stay with Fred and Angelina, then settled in for the duration.

 

To everyone's surprise but her own, she delivered twins again: one boy with a tuft of red hair they named William Edward Weasley after Ron's eldest brother, lost in the war; and one girl with a full head of raven-dark hair paternity charms revealed to be Harry's and they named her Laurel Evans Potter.


End file.
